Reader,

Thanks for reading this! I have only watched halfway through Season 8 of Supernatural, and that is where my characters are, roughly. There is drinking, cursing/rough language, kissing between two consenting male adults, and sexual content between two consenting male adults, though there is no detail given. BTW, 'alulas' are a part of a bird's wing; please let me know if I can use that info better. I'm sure there are lots of improvements I can make. This one only has Castiel and Dean Winchester in it, though Sam Winchester is mentioned. And as usual, I don't own Supernatural, or any affiliated characters. Rated T, best I can figure. I hope you enjoy it!

An Angelic Explosion

Dean sits on the sofa in an extended stay hotel room, drinking beer and watching his favorite re-runs. Again.

'Dean.' Castiel stands in front of Dean, so he can't see the television set. Dean rolls his eyes, takes a slug of his beer, and belches.

'Yeah, Cas?'

'Your behavior the last several months has been…. How do you humans say it?' Castiel quirks a brief smile. 'Surly. Your behavior the last several months has been rather surlier than usual.' Castiel nods to himself, satisfied that he has correctly used human verbiage again. Dean rolls his eyes in exasperation.

'So what Cas?' Dean tips the beer up for another swig, and cursing when he finds it empty. 'Dammit!' He hurls the empty bottle in the general direction of the trash can in the nearby mini kitchen. He grins when he hears the bottle clank against others in the can, and smirks up at Castiel.

'Make yourself useful, Cas, and get that perky ass over to the fridge and get me another beer.' Dean puts a hand on Cas's hip and shoves sideways; Cas steps sideways.

'Besides that, you make a better door than you do a window.' Cas shakes his head at this reference as he heads towards the fridge.

'Since I am obviously neither a door nor a window, Dean, I must assume there is another meaning to your words.' Dean sighs heavily, becoming engrossed in his re-runs again. 'And it has not escaped my notice that you complimented this body's posterior. This comment would seem out of place with your generally surly attitude lately.' Cas retrieves a couple of beer bottles from the fridge, pops the cap on one and hands it to Dean as he sets the other one on the end table.

'Give it a rest already.' Dean growls, pointing his beer around Cas and towards the television. 'I'm right in the middle of a show here.' Dean tips the bottle back and drains it in several gulps. He tosses the bottle accurately in the quickly filling trash can and slouches down on the sofa as he uncaps the other beer. His knee slides between Cas's legs, and he swings it between Cas's knees, punctuating each slurred word.

'Shove. Off. Cas, I'm. Tryina'. Get. Drunk.' Dean takes a long chug, lowers the bottle, and belches up at Cas; Cas's face is unmoved.

'Dean, how much longer do you intend to deceive yourself about your feelings?' Cas whispers quietly, knowing Dean will fight tooth and nail before he admits to anything like a weakness or a feeling. Dean chokes on his beer, sets it on the end table, and surges to his feet, not even inches separating him from Cas.

'Lie to myself about what feelings, Cas?' Dean's gaze is challenging and angry, but his gaze dips briefly down to Cas's mouth for just an instant, and for that instant his face softens. Then anger takes hold again, and he snarls at Cas.

'You bein' in love with me ain't no concern a mine, Castiel. If I wanna lie to myself until the cows come home, that ain't no concern of a junkless, brainless wonder like you,' Dean growls, gripping Castiel by the shirt. Castiel allows himself to be flung back towards the sofa, but before he even hits the cushion, he blinks himself back behind Dean. Dean becomes deadly still, hands relaxed deceptively at his sides, his gaze hard and angry over his shoulder. Cas doesn't lay an hand on him, but neither does he move back.

'Lay off, Cas, I'm warnin' ya'. You're pushin' buttons you ain't got no idea about.' Dean's voice is an angry growl, barely discernable as speech.

'Why are you fighting, Dean?' Cas's voice is barely a whisper, and he almost seems to be speaking to himself.

Dean explodes in front of Cas, whipping around and screaming in his face.

'What the mother fuck do you mean 'why am I fighting?! Are you nuts, Cas, or just really really dense for a fucking angel?! I thought angels were supposed to be so much better than us, but that ain't what I've seen from you, Cas. You're fuckin' useless, you know that?'

Cas allows Dean to shove him backwards towards the opposite wall of the living room, each sentence punctuated with a shove, which Cas obliges with a silent step backwards.

'You fuckin' lied to me, Cas! You lied to me and you left me! You left me, Cas! What the fuck am I supposed to do without you?' Cas steps back against the far wall of the living room, silent. Dean bunches up Cas's shirt in his fists and tries to lift Cas – Cas just raises up on his toes.

'You…' Dean uses a fist full of bunched up shirt to punch Cas's chest with each word. 'Lied. To. Me.' Dean meets Cas's gaze, his eyes angry and too hurt for words, the words don't say it well enough.

'Words fail to express the depth of human emotion. I've always thought the whales were so much better at expressing emotion.' Cas observes, breaking Dean's gaze and looking instead at the right shoulder where he knows his mark has burned Dean's skin in the shape of a handprint. Dean's eyes widen in anger.

'Whales, Cas?! Whales?! I'm about to rip you a literal new one, and you talk about whales?!' Cas smells the Angel Blade before Dean can pull it from the sheathe in the small of his back. Quicker than thought, Cas switches places with Dean, pinning Dean to the wall with his entire body. The Angel Blade tumbles harmlessly to the carpet, rolling a bit away. Before Dean can think to lift his arms in self-defense, Cas pins Dean's arms to his sides, his hands on either side of Dean. Cas places his feet just on the outside of Dean's, leaning into Dean so that their bodies are flush with each other from thigh to chest. There's barely enough room for Dean to breathe. Cas has put his face in the crook of Dean's neck, inhaling deeply; Dean smells very good.

'Cas…' Dean's voice is dangerously low, and Dean is dangerously still. 'Cas, let me up now or so help me I will curse you out of that body for the next decade.' Cas remains unmoved, and Dean tries to kick and jerk unsuccessfully. 'Dammit Cas…' Dean's voice grows louder with each word until he is shouting. 'Let. Me. The. Fuck. Up!' Dean roars in Cas's ear, but Cas remains unmoved against him. Cas has closed his eyes, and when he opens them, his gaze is unusually focused and intense. He leans back a bit and looks into Dean's eyes.

'Do not mistake my good nature for weakness, Dean.' Cas wings spread as much as they can in the relative confines of the hotel room, the tips of his wings wiping things off the counters in the mini kitchen in the back of the room, brushing the window curtains at the front of the room. He allows a small amount of his true form to manifest in the space they occupy. It can be so difficult to limit his form to this frail human skin, when his true form is something closer to the size of a 70+ story skyscraper. Cas's eyes begin to glow and the carpet begins to smolder under his feet. As a small amount of his power leeks back to him, some of the gravity of his true form concentrates in the small area of his presence. Plaster begins to crumble and cave in around his hands, and the cement foundation under his feet cracks loudly. Dean gulps audibly, his eyes now tightly closed against the light aura. Cas closes his eyes again, and lets the power bleed back into the place it came from. Dean recovers himself quickly, undeterred.

'Good nature?!' Dean shouts incredulously in Cas's face. 'Good nature? You killed most of heaven and a good bit of earth, Cas, what the fuck is your good nature?!' Dean shakes his head, growling. He closes his eyes, and Cas can feel him gathering his energy, knows he will soon begin a chant to forcibly remove him from his host body. Cas should probably feel irritated, but for some reason he can't summon the feeling. All he can think is that he appreciates Dean's stubborn nature, even if it drives him crazy sometimes. He leans forward again and sniffs the crook of Dean's neck. Dean begins chanting under his breath, oblivious to Cas's antics; he's used to Cas doing weird stuff.

'Enough, Dean.' Cas puts his lips on Dean's and kisses. Why did he decide to kiss Dean, instead of do something else? Why did it matter? All Cas could feel is the length of Dean's hard body pressed against his own, his lips against Dean's, the beer taste of Dean's mouth. It felt so good to be this close to Dean, like waiting so long for something you want really badly, but aren't really aware that you want until it happens, then you realize how badly you wanted it.

Dean is shocked into silence, then quickly begins returning Cas's kiss with his own passion; Cas's eyes widen in surprise. The endless parade of women through their hotel room did not prepare him for the possibility that Dean might kiss him back if he ever did this. Cas had fully expected a solid right hook. It never occurred to him Dean might kiss him back. Dean was kissing him back!

Reluctantly, Cas pulls away, looking into Dean's eyes. Dean's eyes are confused – lust, hurt, loss, betrayal - painful to look into, but Cas looks anyway. After all, he put most of that hurt and pain and confusion there with his arrogance. It was far too late before he realized that God was indeed trying to tell him to stop trying to be a god – how could he have mistaken the opposition of a True Servant of God like Dean for anything but God's own will expressed in his life? And why in the Heavens had it taken him so long to figure that out?

'I'm sorry, Dean.' Cas's eyes are clear and regretful. Dean's eyes begin to mist over, and he closes them for a moment as he shakes his head.

'Sorry ain't gonna' cut it this time, Cas.' Dean opens his eyes, looking sorrowfully into Cas's blue eyes. 'You lied to me.' Dean whispers painfully. 'You. Left. Me.'

Dean's voice is audible only to the angel standing next to him. Cas is cut to the quick by the raw emotion in Dean's voice. It is then that he realizes he will follow Dean even into the pits of hell and beyond. Always. Dean's soul is his heaven, he realizes with a shock. What does that mean for an angel? Did it really matter?

'I'm sorry, Dean.'

Dean shakes his head again.

'You can't say sorry for this, Cas. You can't take yourself away like that again.' Dean growls his frustration. 'Dammit Cas! Don't you get it? I've got so many people to protect, and I can't do it without you, okay?' Dean's next words are spoken so softly, the angel wonders if he heard words spoken by the heart and not the mouth. 'I need you.' Cas's heart breaks for a moment, and Dean misses the single tear that finds its way down Cas's cheek.

'I'm here, Dean. I'm here now.'

Dean heaves a sigh – as large as he can manage while squashed between an angel and a hotel room wall – there's a thought, he thinks wryly. He smirks sardonically up at Cas.

'Well, this is cozy and all, Cas, but do you really want Sam to find us like this?' Truth be told, Dean liked this arrangement on a very deep level, and found that disturbing. There had not been a whole lot of safe moments in his life, but any time he stood close to Cas, he felt that little flicker of safety that felt suspiciously like home. It shook him to the core to think that it could be taken away from him.

'Sam was told that he needed to go to a place of higher education and research our upcoming 'job' as you both refer to these cases.' Cas quirked a smile at Dean, and Dean felt his pulse jump. Damn that stupid fucking junkless angel. 'Besides which I happen to know that you are not unappreciative of your current predicament.' Cas raised an eyebrow suggestively. Dean's very human regions were showing great interest in what was happening. Strangely, Cas found his very gratifying, and it stoked the feeling building inside him.

'Yeah, you're a real Romeo there Cas, talkin' me to death. Why use one word when seven will do?' Dean quipps, looking away over Cas's shoulder. There wasn't much to see, though, as Cas's wings were still spread over most of the hotel room. For the first time Cas returned from Purgatory, Dean really looked at Cas's wings.

'Cas, what the hell, how long have your alula's been broken? And you look like you're molting? Should you be molting?' Dean's hand strokes Cas's side under his shirt, and Cas lowers one arm and started to shift away. 'Nonono, Cas, don't go away, I just never realized your wings were so damaged.'

Dean lifts his right hand from beneath Cas's shirt and gently strokes his damaged wing, careful to avoid the broken alula. Cas closes his eyes and sighs in deep contentment, an absent smile on his face. Dean smirks.

'You like it when I touch your wings, Cas?' Dean asked, almost shyly.

Cas nodds absently again, his face growing flushed. When he opens his eyes, they are heavy lidded and drowsy. If Dean didn't know better, it almost looked like Cas was…. well, like Cas was getting turned on. Dean dismisses that thought with a snort. Angels didn't have junk, and angels didn't get turned on. Especially not by something as mundane as having their wings petted. Cas's eyes are heavy and seductive, a look Dean had never seen on Cas before, even when he kissed that fool demon Meg in the hallway. An unfamiliar stirring of jealousy burns through Dean, and he stomps it down quickly. Cas probably had a boring, logical reason for playing tonsil hockey with Meg, and it would probably make him laugh when he heard it. Cas leans forward and nuzzles the side of Dean's neck again. Frissons of excitement speed up and down Dean's spine.

'Wow, Cas. I don't think I've ever seen you like…. this.' Dean stammers. Cas almost acts like he wants to…. Dean shakes his head, refusing to finish that thought. All he was doing was stroking Cas's wing, and not even in a very sensual way at that. Dean had to admit the feathers were a beautiful shimmering midnight blue – in places darkening to black. 'Your wings are beautiful, Cas.'

'Thank you, Dean. That means a lot to me.' Cas nearly glowed, his eyes filled with a sensuality Dean was not used to seeing there.

'Cas, I thought angels weren't supposed to be… sexy.' Dean observes carefully. 'Why do you look… sexy… now?'

'Apparently my wings are very sensitive, Dean.'

'Really, Cas? Sensitive? Is this a…. a…. sex thing, Cas?'

'There is no human concept for what this is, Dean.' Cas rattles off a short phrase in Enochian. 'There is no human equivalent.'

'Right. Well, that clears things up.' Dean remarks sarcastically. Of course, Cas completely misses the point.

'I'm glad it does, Dean. I was worried you would not understand.'

'How can you live billions of years and not know how…. sensitive… your wings are?' Dean's voice is skeptical. 'You're literally older than man, Cas, how can you be alive so long and not know that?'

Cas tilts his head, fighting to consider Dean's point through the growing haze. All he can think about is the feel of Dean's hand on his wing, stroking and stroking. Dean's calloused palms against his smooth feathers; the contrast was very…. pleasurable. Dean, what had Dean said?

'I do not know, Dean. There are whole sections of human history that I cannot recall.'

'What, like you were on vacation at the time it happened I guess?' Dean offers, still gently stroking the angel's wing. Cas moans quietly into the crook of Dean's neck.

'Angels don't go 'on vacation', Dean.'

Cas's face is mildly worried, but worry doesn't stay in his mind for long; Dean – Dean! Dean was stroking his wing and adoring his wings, and Dean was so close, standing so close, Cas felt like the entire world smelled of aftershave and sweat and motor oil because Dean had changed the oil on the Impala earlier. Cas moaned again; Dean smelled so good! And his soul was quiet and content, Cas could feel it. Dean felt safe now, being close to him. Dean! Felt safe – with him! Dean's soul fairly hummed with a quiet contentment.

'Well, maybe you lost 'em when you found your way out of Purgatory. I mean, look at the hash it made of your wings, Cas.' Dean continues to stroke Cas's wing, watching his face. Cas was nuzzling in the crook of his neck, and it was very distracting and arousing. How can this not be a sex thing?

'How do you know about wings, Dean?' Cas's voice is soft as he struggles to focus around the feeling building inside him. It feels so good to have Dean touch him this way, feels so right. And the fact that Dean made the effort to learn about him – Dean wanted to know more about him!

'I learned right after I met you Cas, of course. We all did; we all sat around Bobby's place one weekend crammin' our noggins full of information about wings and lore about angels.'

'I am very flattered, Dean. Thank you.' Cas's face is flushed, his eyes heavy lidded as he leans back and gazes as Dean. There is so much unfamiliar feeling in Cas's gaze that Dean actually squirms a little under his stare.

'Wow, Cas, you're… uh… you're really…' Dean clears his throat. 'Are you okay?'

'Do you wish to stop now, Dean? Are you uncomfortable?' Cas's voice is low and breathy; please don't let Dean stop, please I can't handle it if Dean stops. Dean looks around and laughs uncomfortably.

'What, am I some kind of virgin now, Cas? Really? Christ, I haven't been a virgin in….. a really, really long time.' Dean chuckles again uncomfortably, but continues to gently stroke Cas's wing, not unlike petting a dog. Cas's face begins to glow, and his breathing becomes a series of erotic gasps. The feeling was building to a sort of peak of intensity, and if he let it loose here, people would die.

'Dean, we have to go.' Dean hesitates a moment, taken aback by Cas's sudden urgency. If they were having sex, he'd think Cas was about to….. Dean shakes his head again, dismissing the thought. Angels don't have sex, and Cas said it wasn't a sex thing.

Before Dean can blink, they are in an open meadow area, in an uninhabited forestland.

'Where the fuck are we, Cas?'

'Mongolian. Steppes.' Cas's breath comes in gasps, and Dean swears for all the world it sounds like he's about to…. Dean closes his eyes; why does he keep thinking that?

'Why, Cas?'

'Why. What?' Cas gasps. 'Dean!' Dean's name comes out as an unmistakably erotic moan; Cas mumbles in Enochian.

'Cas, why the fuck are we in the Mongolian Steppes, and not in the friggin' hotel room?'

'Patience, Dean.' Cas closes his eyes and tilts his head back, moaning again. He grips Dean and pulls him closer, his wings folding around them. 'Don't stop, Dean. Please.' Whatever this feeling was, Cas needed to follow it, find out where it went. What was happening? Why had he never felt this way before? Would Dean be okay? Dean, he needed Dean so much, if Dean ever knew how badly he needed him, what would he do? Why did he need Dean so much?

'Okay Cas. It's okay, I'm here.' Dean closes his eyes, unwittingly responding to Cas's unspoken question, and continues to gently caress Cas's wing. If he didn't know better, he'd say it was like they were having sex and Cas was about to….

'Well, fuck me, Cas, you old dog.' Dean laughs quietly. It was a sex thing after all, he was right.

It isn't sex, Cas thinks, it's deeper than that. Whatever this feeling is, it has been filling him up, pushing like a tidal wave inside him, building and growing and demanding a release. Dean's gentle laughter pushes Cas over the edge, and he lets out a primal yell in Enochian as a wave of power pulses out from him, and for a part of a second, he assumes his true form - over 1,000 feet of him, four faces, blinding glorious light, midnight black wings, full battle armor – all of it. For one split part of a second, he feels free and accepted and loved for who he is.

Dean closes his eyes, pushes his head into Cas's shoulder, and holds on for the ride. Whatever it is only lasts a second, at most. For that one second, it feels like he has a hold of the Chrysler Building, if the Chrysler Building were a massive living being, and if that being was as hot as the sun, and if the sun were located in the Challenger Deep, and if the Challenger Deep were hot instead of cold. He wouldn't be surprised if he had the world's worst sunburn after this.

He wants to open his eyes and look, to see Cas's true form, but all those memories of melted eye sockets make sure his eyes stay tightly closed. He thinks maybe if he didn't have a hold of Cas's wing, he would be crushed under the weight all around him, burned alive by the heat and holiness surrounding him. Then it's gone. He feels Cas's chuckle rumble deep in his chest and raises his head up, eyes still tightly closed.

'You can open your eyes now, Dean.' Dean opens his eyes and looks around. The steppe grass and rolling hills are compressed, flattened, and burned for nearly a mile in every direction.

'Holy Hell, Cas! Did you do that?'

'Yes, Dean. I manifested my true form for only a millisecond or so. I'm actually very impressed that you survived it. I was afraid I would have to commit suicide after this.' Cas notes that Dean's face looks sunburned, but other than that, he does not seem to have suffered any ill effects.

'Suicide my ass, Cas, you are not allowed to commit suicide!' Dean looks around at the devastated landscape. 'Fuck me, Cas, that is some serious damage.'

'This is why we are all 'junkless' as you say.'

'No shit, Sherlock.' Dean replies, surveying the damage and shaking his head. 'Oh, and that officially qualifies as 'sex', Cas, by the way; just for your clarification.'

'As a fictional character, I do not believe Sherlock Holmes would have shat, Dean.' Cas considers Dean's point about sex. 'I do not think I have experienced that before, Dean. But there are so many gaps in my memory, it is hard to tell.' Dean smiles, like the cat that got the canary.

'So I popped your cherry, eh, Cas?'

'Dean, I fail to see what tree fruit has to do with the experience we shared.' Cas is utterly confused again. There is so much to learn from Dean!

'Yeah, missin' the point as usual, Cas.' Dean laughs to himself; yep, Cas is himself again. Another frisson of excitement runs up and down his spine again, remembering the look of desire in Cas's eyes.

'I seem to miss a lot of things.'

'You'll pick up on it sooner or later.' Dean remembers how old Castiel is. 'Or maybe not; I'm sure you would have before now.'

'No one has bothered to try and teach me, Dean.' Cas's face is folded in confusion. 'At least, I don't think they have.' He grabs Dean by the waist, and in a blink they are back in the hotel room.

'Dean, why has no one bothered to try and teach me until now? I have lived billions of years and watched the rise and fall of many civilizations. Surely I would not forget someone who taught me about being human?' Cas's face is still folded in confusion.

'I don't know, Cas.' Dean sighs and retrieves a beer from the fridge. He finds himself wishing he smoked, and chuckles to himself. 'Are you sure it's not just damage from escaping Purgatory?'

'Dean, that is exactly the problem. I am a fallen angel. I should not have been able to leave Purgatory.' Cas whispers, and for a moment his face clears. Dean sits on the sofa and nearly drops his beer at Cas's calm statement.

'The fuck, Cas, really? You couldn't have come out with that earlier? Like, while we were in Purgatory?!'

'Would you have believed me, Dean?'

Dean considers this and shrugs.

'You have a point there. No, I probably would not have believed you.'

Cas steps over to the sofa and sits down.

'It would have taken another angel at least as powerful as me to pull me out. But why would I not remember that, Dean?'

Dean glances uneasily over at Cas.

'Cas, the only answers I can come up with are ugly.'

In a blink, Cas is gone.